


Micro

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hacker, Hell's Kitchen, Pre-AOS Skye, Skye learned to make bombs from Micro, Wilson Fisk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4174494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To celebrate Skye's birthday.  A peek into her past in Hell's Kitchen working with Micro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Micro

“My nephew,” he said, closing her laptop.

“I’m sorry-“

“You want to end up like that, keep going.  Keep digging, just like him.”

He looked out towards the window towards the fading daylight coming in between the blinds.

“This is _not_ just about my parents,” she said. “SHIELD has no right to keep information from the public.”

“SHIELD is the least of your worries,” he said. “It’s people like Fisk.  He's going to own this place someday.  He’s buying up all the real estate in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“He’s not going to get far,” she said, crossing her arms. “We both know there are other interested parties.”

“I’m going underground for awhile,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I suggest you do the same.”

“Micro...”

She didn’t even know his real name.  He taught her to erase hers.

“Somebody’s got to get this guy,” she said furiously. “He killed-“

“Not going to be me,” he said. “And I ain’t helping you to end up dead. I shouldn’t have taught him all that stuff. Or _you_ all that stuff. You think you got real power now? You don’t.”

He stopped himself, tears starting to well in his eyes.

“You’re one of the good ones, Skye,” he said. “Don’t ever believe different.  I got myself in deep.  Making weapons.  Did you know about me and that?”

She leaned forward, and touched his arm. “We can’t let him get away with it.  He can’t _kill_ information...that's why we'll win!”

Micro jerked away as he raised his voice. “ _Did you know, Skye?!_  "

Staring back at him, she shrugged a little.

"Fisk probably used one of them to kill him, too.  He’s sick like that.”

“I suspected,” she said, lowering her head. “I didn’t…dig.  Where your accounts were getting all that money from. I wanted to.  But, I didn’t.”

“I ain’t proud of it,” he said. “For every good thing I did, I did one of those, too.  I'm just ashamed I roped you in.”

“Why?” she asked, shaking her head. “For money?”

He looked up at the sound of disgust in her voice. “Where do you think all this tech came from? Charity?!  It’s how they get you.  They chip away at you until you bend, just a little.”

“Give me a list,” she started. “I’ll turn it over to people who like to make trouble for guys like Fisk.”

“What, _SHIELD_?” he chortled.  He picked up a handful of SD cards and walked to the kitchen, opened the microwave, deposited them inside, then shut it.  "They'll just put you in one of their gulags, see what else you got."

“You’re destroying data?!” she said, following after him. “That information could put people away!”

He pressed the power button as she crossed her arms at him.

“Where?  What prison?  Many of the cops are on Fisk’s payroll. I know you know _that_ much.”

“Something that will send a message, then,” Skye said.

“I’m going to pretend I’m not hearing this,” he said, taking the melted plastic out of the microwave and throwing it in the trash.  He blinked, then slowly turned towards her.  “You mean like an asset?”

“Fisk is starting gang wars, right?  To see who's left standing? You have evidence.  Hand it over to them.  Let them tear each other apart, maybe it’ll give the people here some breathing room?”

“He hires assassins, Skye.  People that hunt you down and put a bullet in your head,” he said, raising his finger in a mimicking motion, pointing it at his head. “We’re already in the crosshairs, thanks to me.”

“I can’t believe you’re giving up,” she said, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “After what he’s done.”

He shoved her laptop towards her.

“My nephew got the message," he said. "You'd better, too. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a funeral to attend.”

 She walked out, slamming the door behind her.

 

#

 

Skye looked up at the warehouse and shouldered her backpack, looking carefully around her before crossing the street.

Hugging the alley, she went up the fire escape and lifted the window, zipping open a pocket and dragging out a can of hairspray.

She pushed the top and the fine mist showed the laser tripwire he’d set up just inside the window.  She took out her compact mirror and angled it just like he’d shown her.

Then she crawled in and yanked it after, leaving the circuit in place.

Pulling out her flashlight, she went to the computer and turned it on, plugging in the flash drive and smiling as she hacked her way into her mentor’s computer.

If he wasn’t going to risk it, _she_ would.

Micro had bailed her out of jail when she'd been caught breaking and entering into _his_ warehouse last year.

Finding the files was a chore, but she began the download and looked around the room.

Yep. She'd broken into his warehouse, once.  And here she was doing it again.

She'd tracked him down online and traced him through back channels. It had impressed him enough to show up and drop charges and say it was all a misunderstanding.

It didn’t look like he’d touched anything since this afternoon.  Funny for a guy on the run.

She walked towards a suitcase opened away from her on the coffee table.

“Oh no,” she said, looking down at the contents.  C4.  Half empty.  “ _Micro_.”

Running back to the computer she looked around the room, anxiously.  Was he planning to blow it?

Pulling up the last several searches on his computer, she let out a breath of relief. He’d been mapping locations of Fisk’s properties all over the city.

Taking out her burn phone, she called him immediately.  No answer.

This wasn’t the way they did things.  Or maybe it was the way _he_ did things?

She'd looked the other way for too long.  Because she thought it was worth the risk to learn from him.

He’d even told her he was ex-military that one night over bad Chinese between instructions on…building bombs.

“Dammit,” she said, looking around the room.  She wasn’t sure exactly what kind of security threat she was dealing with here.

Getting down into a crawl, she put her hand out and tripped the laser.

She covered her head as the sound of electricity filled the room and there was a massive EMP burst.

All the lights were out, but she turned to see a fire beginning to start in two separate corners of the room.

“Oh boy,” she said, getting up and hauling herself out through the front door.  She stopped suddenly and ran back, grabbing the flash drive free and heading down the stairs as she watched the flames start coming out of the window above.

He’d know someone was here now.  Would he think it was her, or that Fisk was onto him?

She remembered the locations and began walking quickly in the opposite direction, pulling up her phone and looking at the descriptions one by one.

What if she just called the cops?  So no one would get hurt?

Suddenly she felt like she hit a brick wall and stopped to look up at a guy in a trenchcoat and a hat standing right in her way.

“What’s _your_ problem?” she said, trying to move around him.

She remembered Micro talking about assassins to her earlier that day, and she swallowed the feeling of panic coming over her.

“You know about that?” he growled out, nodding back towards the burning warehouse. “Saw you come out of there.”

“You saw _wrong_ ,” she said.

They both turned at the sound of the warehouse exploding in the distance.  

She shoved at him and started to run. All those weapons had gone up in flames. Good.

A gunshot whizzed past her face as she froze in her tracks.

“Don’t make me,” he called after her.

She felt him come up behind her and shoved the flash drive into her pocket.

“Give it up,” he said, bending his fingers at her, then grabbing at her jacket roughly as she tried to jerk away.

“You some dirtbag working for Fisk?” she asked, when he finally got the drive loose and looked it over.  She turned around to face him, grinding her jaw.  “Going to help him burn Hell’s Kitchen to the ground so he can buy it back up?”

The guy across from her didn’t seem like he was interested in talking.

"He's got one less block to worry about."

She opened her mouth, then shut it. "That was an...accident."

“Where is he?” he asked, after a beat, holding up the drive as hostage.

Looking down at his gun nervously, she leaned in towards him, “I told you, I don’t know-“

She brought her forehead against his nose as hard as she could.

Then watched as his head recoiled and blood dripped out of one nostril as he frowned down at her. 

He was still holding the gun. Didn't even take a step back.

“Shit. _That_ didn’t go as planned,” she said, trying to joke, as he wiped at the blood with the back of his hand.

She could see some kind of skull printed on the front of his t-shirt inside his jacket.

"Okay.  _Creepy_."

“He sells. I buy,” he said. “That’s all you get.”

“One of those jerks that keeps him in the weapons biz?” she started, raising her voice. “Hand me back my hard drive, asshole!”

He sighed. “You don’t know anything.”

“Actually, I’m trying to stop him from blowing up a building and making a _huge_ mistake.”

“Ironic. Whose building?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Fisk’s,” she said quietly, looking around nervously.

“Huh,” he said, putting the hard drive in his pocket.

“Hey!” she said.

“Walk while you still have both kneecaps,” he said, lifting the gun.

She shook her head at him, fuming, then walked away, turning the corner, in the direction of her van parked several blocks further.

An alert came over her phone and she pulled it out and looked down at the news report of the explosion.

It was the top floor of an office building.  No casualties reported.

Micro wasn't going to stop.  He was just getting started.

All she had left now was to turn south.

There were a group of hacktivists there calling themselves The Rising Tide.

One of them had contacted her from Austin, Texas.  Let her trace his location and everything.

It was an invitation.

Starting over again.

For the right reasons, this time.


End file.
